


Occupational Hazard

by LemonsandRosemary



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: BDSM, Established Relationship, F/F, PWP, Phone Sex, Restraints, Spanking, Whipping, it's sexy read it, just a fun drabble thing, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 16:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21200834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonsandRosemary/pseuds/LemonsandRosemary
Summary: Sexual injuries with Esmé Squalor are an occupational hazard.I report pedophilesDon’t interact with my fics if you post/read ageplay or sexual content that features minors, even if they’re aged up





	Occupational Hazard

Georgina was no stranger to mid-coital injuries. She had deduced even before their relationship began that Esmé liked things on the rougher side and, as usual, she had not been wrong. She was frequently subjected to stiff hips and shoulders. Smiling, she recalled an incident about six weeks prior, when Esmé had tied her wrists and ankles to the bed frame and denied her climax until her hips ached and her shoulders were near wrenched out of their sockets. 

“Esmé, I can’t-” she said, breathlessly. 

“Oh but darling you can.” Esmé purred. 

There was only so much that the sensation of fluid silk could do to distract from the burning spreading through her tendons. 

She gritted her teeth, “I can’t-” she muttered an incoherent string of expletives, “I can’t take much more of this.” Georgina craned her neck to try to catch a glimpse of the other woman, but she sat frustratingly just below Georgina’s line of vision. 

Georgina could hear the grin in Esmé’s voice, “Then you know what to do.” 

If she weren’t in so much pain, she would have rolled her eyes. As it was, she settled for fixing her gaze on the dangling crystals set in the chandelier above her head,

“Have you ever thought about putting a mirror on this ceiling?” She enjoyed pushing her luck occasionally and, after all, she knew the bite in her joints the next day would serve as a pleasant reminder of the previous night’s activities. 

Esmé laughed, “Now who’s delaying the inevitable, hm?” 

Georgina, beginning to worry that she was at serious risk of dislocating a limb, swallowed her pride, “Please, Esmé.” And, after no response, she tried again, her voice dripping with desperation, “_Please_.” 

She felt Esmé’s weight press onto her thighs moments before she felt her tongue delve into her core. 

She gasped despite herself. 

Georgina had been right about the next day. Reaching a heavy book off a high shelf, only to be met with a sting in her shoulder, or a throbbing sensation in her hips every time she climbed a stair induced a deep tension in her abdomen that she was unable to ignore.

Bruises were also routine with Esmé. As much as she would never admit it to herself or anyone else, Georgina had a particular predilection for being on her knees. There was something about the feeling of raw skin in the aftermath of carpet burn or the ache of bruises endured on Esmé’s hardwood flooring that she savoured. Not to mention the activities that led to said injuries. 

The problem she was having, currently, was that the everyday injuries she was used to enduring with Esmé were relatively easy to conceal. A sore shoulder could be explained away, bruises could be hidden, even the deep scarlet or purpling welts on her wrists could be encased in a bracelets or coated in stage makeup. 

The strain in her neck however, was a different story. 

Georgina had been enjoying the velvety feeling of Egyptian cotton against her shoulder blades and the even softer feeling of Esmé’s thighs either side of her face. She grasped Esmé’s hips like they were the only thing pinning her to a delicate sense of reality. It was at this precise moment that Georgina knew she had made a mistake. As Esmé’s thighs clenched around her jaw, she felt a nerve in her neck tense, and she became relatively certain that, for approximately a day, she would have to stiffly turn her whole body to look at any of her colleagues.

She neglected to mention the trapped nerve to Esmé, deciding that finishing was of the utmost importance, but after Esmé had toppled onto the pillow next to her, Georgina’s suspicions were confirmed when she found she was unable to turn to face her without her muscles screaming. 

The frustrating part of the whole affair, Georgina thought to herself, as she swivelled her whole body on her office chair in order to pick up a pen slightly to her left, was that the experience had not been deliberate. She groaned as she fondly remembered being incapable of sitting comfortably for three days after Esmé had whipped her into submission. Her irritation at her ongoing predicament worsened. She had no objections to bruises, sprains, scrapes, and red stripes along bare flesh when she, at the very least, had the benefit of an orgasm or whispered admissions of love to show for them. 

Her phone buzzed beside her and, being grimly reminded of the pain in her neck, she looked at the caller ID. _Blocked number_, she smiled. 

“Hello, Dr. Orwell speaking.” She feigned innocence. 

She could almost hear Esmé roll her eyes through the phone, “Shut up, you know it’s me.” Esmé rattled through a drawer, “Are you busy tonight?” 

Georgina leaned back in her chair, “That depends.” She smirked, “What are you suggesting?” 

“I have some horrible dinner to go to.” Esmé whined, “I’m supposed to take Jerome but I’d _much_ rather take you.” The innuendo was not lost on Georgina.

She sighed excessively, “I don’t know, I’m just so busy at work, you know.” It was rare she had an opportunity to exert any type of authority over Esmé. 

Esmé cooperated, “Oh darling, I’ll do _anything_ for you to be there.” Georgina heard her flop onto a chair. 

“Anything?” Georgina repeated, “I think I could be persuaded to attend. For the right price”. 

Esmé’s voice stiffened almost imperceptibly, “What do you want?” 

Georgina paused, “I’d like you to be the one with some kind of sex related trauma for once.” 

“What did you have in mind?” Esmé spoke in a tone of poorly feigned disinterest. 

Georgina hadn’t anticipated feeling pressure in her core this early in the morning or in her office, but she leaned into the sensation. She rolled her chair backwards to ensure that her surroundings were free of prying ears. 

“Something involving you bent across my lap, perhaps?” 

Esmé laughed, “I’m sure that could be arranged.” She paused, “Before or after the reunion?” 

Georgina hesitated, Esmé had mentioned nothing about this being a reunion. She was far less inclined to endure a room full of catty women twenty years’ her junior than she was a business arrangement.

Esmé heard the thick silence and interjected, driving the conversation substantially to the left, “During?” 

Georgina bit her lip, “That sounds more like it.” 

“Pick me up at eight?”

“Or seven?” Georgina offered. 

“God, yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fun short one today! Lmk what you think! Thanks for reading xx


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